


Test of Strength

by help_me_no



Series: The Strength of Minotaurs [4]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Size Difference, Size Kink, Strength Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29134968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/help_me_no/pseuds/help_me_no
Summary: Theseus and Asterius begin experimenting with the possibilities that Asterius’s strength and size provide them.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)
Series: The Strength of Minotaurs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125833
Comments: 6
Kudos: 195





	Test of Strength

**Author's Note:**

> You can read this fic just fine without the previous works in the series! This one is especially smutty.

The champions have just won a bout in the arena, and Theseus’s blood is still rushing in his ears, even though they now stand in the middle of their shared living chamber.

Theseus watches as Asterius divests himself of his gauntlets, his championship belt, and the pleats of leather that go over the lighter fabric of his tunic. He can barely stand still, and its only heightened by the sight of Asterius’s body, and the comfort with which he removes his minimal armor in Theseus’s presence.

Theseus has already done the same, and is draping the discarded garments across a chair when an idea comes to him. Really, he thinks, Asterius should know what is coming. They may still be early in this new stage of their relationship, but it’s no secret how much Theseus constantly wants Asterius, nor how much the adrenaline rush of battle next to each other fuels that desire.

And so Theseus turns towards Asterius’s back and braces his feet wide, shoulders back, as he does in the arena, in the way he knows demands attention, and waits. When Asterius turns, his inquisitive gaze makes Theseus’s blood run even hotter, and he grins. Then Theseus reaches one hand under the skirts of his tunic, undoes his loincloth, and lets the fabric fall.

It is indescribably gratifying, the way Asterius freezes, the choked noise he makes, the way his wide eyes dart to the floor where Theseus’s undergarments lay, then to his face his face, and finally to the shape of his tunic which now has nothing underneath.

It is even more gratifying when Asterius tips his head back to stare at the ceiling, and then has to close his eyes, taking several deep, shaking breaths to steady himself. He finally lets his head drop, rolls his shoulders twice, and meets Theseus’s gaze.

“My king, may I try something?”

Theseus steps forward and reaches out, strokes his hand down the side of Asterius’s snout, beaming up at him.

“You may try anything you wish!”

Asterius crouches, looks up at Theseus, and then wraps one broad arm around the back of Theseus’s thighs. He lifts slowly, enough for Theseus to figure out what he’s doing (if not where it’s going) and squirm out of his grasp, if he wishes. He does not.

Asterius shifts his weight as he lifts Theseus up, ending with Theseus sitting upon his forearm, held an alarming distance in the air as Asterius stands at full height and raises Theseus to eye level.

“I must admit I am unsure of your plan here, my friend!”

Asterius blinks slowly, then leans forward and presses his wet nose to the exposed inside of Theseus’s thigh. Theseus shivers. Oh, oh.

Asterius’s other hand comes up, grips his knee, then begins a slow slide up his leg, gathering the folds of Theseus’s tunic with it.

“You should brace yourself, Theseus.”

Theseus can feel the shape of the words in Asterius’s mouth, where it is pressed to his thigh.

“On what?” He asks, voice only somewhat shaky; “I am suspended in mid-air; you are the only thing here!”

Asterius looks up at Theseus through his eyelashes. His one hand releases Theseus’s tunic. (Theseus notes with embarrassment that Asterius has drawn it so high that when he drops it now, it just barely covers his erection in a way that’s quite obscene). Slowly, so slowly, as every move Asterius has made in this interaction—as if he’s afraid Theseus will startle—he grasps Theseus’s wrist and guides it to one of his horns.

“Brace yourself,” Asterius repeats.

Theseus tentatively reaches out his other hand to grasp the other horn, just in time for Asterius to slide his now-free hand back under Theseus’s tunic and grip his cock.

Theseus tips forward with a cry, smashing his mouth against the smooth side of one horn in an attempt to muffle the noise. He’s tearing up, part of his mind realizes, as Asterius begins to stroke. It’s intense and overwhelming and he doesn’t know how his body can contain so much sensation. Asterius is not using his full fist, Theseus is sure (though he can’t bear to make himself look), and still his grasp fully engulfs Theseus’s dick. His hand is unbearably hot and soft as velvet and _huge_. And perched as he is, Theseus has no leverage for fear of sliding off Asterius’s arm. He can only tremble and take whatever Asterius gives him.

“Asterius, my friend, my love, this is too much!”

“Is it?” Asterius slows to stillness. “Do you need me to stop?”

“No!” Theseus yelps, one of his hands fumbles blindly down to Asterius’s mane, tangles there and yanks; “Do _not!_ ”

Asterius grunts a little with the pull of his hair, but then huffs a soft amused snort. The folds of Theseus’s robes flutter.

“You think this is too much, but you do not wish me to stop. I wonder then—“

Theseus has an instant where he feels the Asterius’s nose against his abdomen, and then Asterius ducks down, and all Theseus knows is wet heat. It feels like every nerve ending in his body is alight, and he’d scream if he wasn’t half-paralyzed by the pleasure.

The stars clear from his eyes and he realizes he’s chanting Asterius’s name, and his knees have snapped shut against Asterius’s cheeks, as if they could hold his head in place. He thinks he feels Asterius laughing around his cock. He can’t quite tell with how his head is swimming.

There’s a hot pressure along the underside of his dick, and it takes him a moment, but—that’s Asterius’s tongue, he realizes, the huge, flat press of it, and—

“Asterius. Asterius-Asterius- _Asterius_. I cannot hold on—! Asterius I am—!”

Asterius wraps his other arm around the small of Theseus’s back, presses him forward at the same time he leans in further, as if there was more of Theseus that he could possibly swallow down.

Theseus’s whole body spasms as he comes. His fists clench in a death grip and his knees are squeezing together with a force that could break a weak man’s bones and Asterius only hums, laps his huge tongue against Theseus’s twitching cock. He does not release him until an exhausted Theseus half-heartedly slaps at his horn.

“Asterius, I am _spent_.”

Theseus knows his words are slurring, his voice is barely a mumble, but Asterius pulls back, presses his warm face to Theseus’s thigh.

“Good?” Asterius asks.

“So good, my love. Unimaginably good. Soul-shatteringly good. Were I not already dead and in Elysium I would surely have been sent here.”

Asterius only laughs.

Theseus realizes his hands are beginning to cramp from where they squeezed at Asterius’s horns.

“Oh no. Oh no, I am so sorry my friend, have I hurt you?”

Asterius looks up, puzzled, until he catches the horrified look Theseus is leveling at his horns. He laughs again, and the sound burrows, warm and fizzy inside Theseus’s chest.

“You have not hurt me.” Asterius voice is gentle and indulgent. “I do not feel them much, only pressure when you shove. It would hurt, should you break them, but you did not come close. Worry not.”

“Oh.” Theseus says; “I am glad then.”

They stay there in silence for a few moments before Theseus speaks up again.

“Does this not— does your arm ache any? I am not light.”

“No.”

Asterius stares straight up into Theseus’s eyes, his own twinkling with amusement. At the answer, the reminder of Asterius’s strength, the apparent ease of this endeavor, Theseus’s spent cock gives a half-hearted twitch. By the crinkle at the corner of Asterius’s eyes, it does not go unnoticed.

In a bid to distract Asterius, (or distract himself, perhaps) Theseus shifts, wraps his arms around the back of Asterius’s head, then his neck, as he slides forward, off Asterius’s arm. There’s a moment where he dangles, feet not even close to brushing the floor, before he lets go to stand, collapsed, against Asterius’s chest. He’s panting against Asterius’s ribs, drawing idle patterns in his fur, Asterius occasionally huffing when his fingers push the fur in the wrong direction.

He can feel Asterius’s erection pressing against his chest. He tries not to pay too much attention to how long the line of it is, with middling success. Asterius does not seem inclined to push Theseus into action though, so once he catches his breath, Theseus is forced to take the initiative.

He leans back, one hand braced on Asterius’s abdomen, and beams up at him.

“I should like to see you Asterius!”

“I—“ Asterius hesitates.

“You do still want this, yes?”

“I do.” Asterius confirms, and that’s enough for Theseus.

“Well then!” He exclaims, and promptly yanks off Asterius’s belt.

Asterius jumps in surprise, but makes no moves to stop Theseus as he stands on tiptoe to begin shoving his tunic off his shoulder.

“Off! Off! You are magnificent, my friend, and I should like to have you on display before me.”

“That is embarrassing,” Asterius huffs, “You are embarrassing, my king.”

“Nonsense! Come, let us find somewhere more comfortable for me to enjoy you.”

Theseus shoves them towards Asterius’s room—the bed is far larger; though Asterius has complained he had no need for so much space, Theseus had insisted on a bed befitting both his stature and status as champion. It is an ocean of blankets, though no pillows (to avoid catching his horns, though they aren’t sharp enough to pierce without intention).

Asterius allows himself to be maneuvered. He grumbles under his breath as if he is unwilling, but Theseus knows by now that Asterius could choose to be a wall and even Theseus would be unable to move him.

By the time they reach the bed, Theseus has managed to divest Asterius of the last of his clothes. He takes particular pleasure in urging Asterius to bend down, untangling the garlands from his hair, if only for the soft expression on Asterius’s face when he takes particular care not to tug. Then he shoves Asterius onto the bed, and steps back to drink in the sight.

“Gorgeous,” he finally declares. If Asterius ever blushes, it is not visible, but the way he turns his head and averts his gaze is clear enough.

Theseus yanks his own tunic over his head, catching and pulling his own garlands with it.

He sets his shoulders back, putting his own body on display.

“You could challenge Narcissus in shows of vanity,” Asterius says, obviously amused.

“I am proud of my body, for I know the beauty my hard work has wrought!”

Asterius laughs, and Theseus basks in it, before he strides towards the bed.

“You should too, my friend! You have a body as if sculpted by the gods, formed in reality by your strength and dedication!”

Here, Theseus has to pause a moment, to strategize. The stretch he imagines in his thighs were he to straddle Asterius’s hips or waist would be delicious, but he could not possibly splay them wide enough for Asterius’s chest, and he doesn’t wish to have to readjust halfway through. He resigns himself to crawling up the bed beside Asterius, for now.

“You are magnificent, perfection embodied! Every part of you drives me wild with lust, I do not understand how there is anyone who would not lay at your feet to behold you!” Theseus trails his hands up Asterius’s body as he speaks, punctuating his words with the occasionally open-mouthed kiss to his chest. He finishes his speech, at Asterius’s face, beams down at his flustered friend, and presses a soft, wet kiss to the corner of Asterius’s mouth.

“Now, Asterius, my friend, my love, what do you want of me? I will require a bit more practice before I can offer you everything, but there is still no shortage of choices! Would you like my hand?” At this, Theseus reaches down to grasp at Asterius’s bare cock. “My mouth?” He leans down to tongue at the curve of Asterius’s pectoral, maintaining eye contact all the while.

Asterius groans, and Theseus feels the rumble of it beneath his tongue and his hands and in his rapidly-rehardening cock.

“Anything you would give me, Theseus.” (Theseus trembles at that, somehow still thrown off kilter by his unadulterated name from Asterius’s lips.) “The only experience I have is you, I know not what to ask.”

Theseus sits back on his heels and huffs at the answer.

“You were quite creative earlier!”

“Only because... I think of you often. I lay awake and imagine you.”

It’s not news, not by a long shot, but it still makes Theseus’s heart clench, and his cock twitch. He gathers up all that emotion and energy into pressing Asterius into confession.

“Then tell me what else you imagine! I do not believe you have only the one fantasy.”

Asterius briefly meets his eyes, before glancing away. He repeats this several times, as he reaches up and cradles his hand around the back of Theseus’s head.

“Your hair is quite the mess, my king.”

“You are deflecting the question!”

Asterius runs his thumb along Theseus’s cheekbone, slowly. Theseus is not often patient, but for Asterius, for this? He will be.

Asterius’s hand shifts, and his thumb migrates across Theseus’s cheek, to his lips. Theseus could laugh with it, delighted in how obvious Asterius is, but restrains himself. He notes with curiosity that Asterius slides his thumb up to dimple his top lip, rather than to press into his mouth.

“I would... have your mouth.” (Obviously, Theseus thinks, but does not say.)

“Not— not your throat, but just—your lips—“ Asterius is clearly struggling now, moving into genuine awkward embarrassment, and Theseus takes mercy on him.

He presses a kiss to Asterius’s thumb, makes sure to angle his head such that Asterius gets a good view of how the soft of his lip yields to the pressure, before leaning back, and beaming.

“I am glad you found the courage to tell me, my love!”

Then he drops to his knees between Asterius’s legs, and presses his mouth to the side of Asterius’s cock.

Asterius groans as if it is being ripped out of him, and Theseus would grin, would it not distort the shape of his mouth. Instead he moves up the side of Asterius’s length, aware of how huge it feels (how huge it must look) against his face like this, pressing closed-mouth kisses that would be chaste, if not for their location and the pressure he applies. Periodically he opens his mouth to lick a long stripe, stroking his hands along any neglected flesh.

When he reaches the head, he makes sure to look up, making eye contact as he presses a kiss there, letting Asterius’s cock distend the bow of his lips. Asterius stares down at him, and when Theseus braces a palm against a huge thigh, he can feel it spasming.

“Asterius,” he says against the head of his cock, lips moving with each word, “You can move.”

Asterius shakes his head, and Theseus tips his head, considering. (He makes certain to shift such that his mouth is the axis, that it stays in place, even as he adjusts to think. Asterius shivers again beneath him.)

“Do you enjoy the self-restraint, my friend? Having to hold yourself still by only your will, while I get to do as I wish?”

Asterius’s silence is telling, and this time Theseus can’t keep the smile from his mouth.

He redoubles his efforts, allowing himself the chance to explore. He leaves no inch of Asterius’s considerable length unattended, lets himself nose into the crease of Asterius’s thigh, licks down at his balls. Asterius trembles beneath him, groaning, and watches him the whole while.

Asterius does not move or complain even when Theseus pauses in his ministrations to lean back and give a few lazy strokes to his own dick, or when he lines their hips up to grind them together. He gasps wetly at Theseus’s accompanying commentary on the difference in their stature, at how magnificent Asterius is, at how just the size of him makes Theseus want to come.

“Asterius, would you think it terribly selfish for me to come a second time before I have even relieved you once?”

Asterius throws his head back, tossing it wildly.

“Theseus, my king, do it, _please_.”

Theseus rolls his hips twice more before spilling across Asterius’s cock. Even as he rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm, he drops to his knees again, and smears his mouth against Asterius’s cock, letting his own cum decorate his lips and his cheeks.

Asterius wails, and bucks his hips, just once, before he forces himself back to stillness. That won’t do, Theseus decides.

Theseus meets his eyes, and says, full volume, with all the confidence of speeches in the arena, “Would you like to spend yourself across my face, dearest Asterius? You should!”

“You are ridiculous, you are _absurd_ ,” Asterius grunts, even as he lurches up off the bed and he tangles both his hands in Theseus’s hair. He’s bent over double above Theseus, and the force and volume of his orgasm is obscene and grotesque and searingly hot.

Finally Asterius releases Theseus’s hair, flopping backwards, chest heaving. Theseus rises to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Even in this, you are impressive!” He exclaims, as he wipes his bare hands across his face.

Asterius groans and grabs at Theseus arm to yank him down to the bed. He wipes at his face with the corner of a sheet, and when he is satisfied Theseus is (finally) clean, tucks him against his side, wrapping an arm around him.

“Well, alright,” Theseus allows, and rolls over to fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate summary was ‘Theseus drops his panties in front of his new giant boyfriend and gets consequently manhandled.’  
> (There's a rabbithole about here about proper terms for ancient Greek garments, and also whether they would've even worn undergarments under something like an exomis, but 1. the exomis is a bit more of an obscure term so plain English 'tunic'/‘robe’ reads easier, 2. I cannot let myself think too much about Theseus and Asterius not wearing undergarments or it'll ruin my ability to ever fight them again.)
> 
> For people keeping up with this series (and/or the ‘Kings and Monsters and Men’ series), I might fuss with my update schedule a little bit—I might keep MWF and aim to post one each (smut oneshot, pre-relationship oneshot, interlude chapter) a week, or I might accelerate things a little bit. Lemme know if you have strong feelings about that!  
> (Or on any of the rest of this fic! I love hearing from y'all even if these smut oneshots are a little embarrassing with how intense they are. Despite that, I think this one is actually my favorite out of the five I have written so far.)


End file.
